


Despite All My Rage

by nonconanon



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Cages, Coming Untouched, Finger Sucking, M/M, Medical Experimentation, No Refractory Period, Obscurial Credence Barebone, Self-Lubrication, Sex Pollen, Spit Kink, Thumb-sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 15:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9190247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonconanon/pseuds/nonconanon
Summary: After a potions experiment goes awry, Graves' obscurial develops a near-feral desire to be fucked.





	

Graves never considered himself much of a potions maker, though given the results of his most recent experiment, he considers updating his resume. The cage was a necessity, he tells himself, for the boy’s protection. It is plenty big, large enough for him to lie mostly flat, his lanky body stretched from one corner to the other, but now he is on his side, curled into a ball and shivering. It is a trick: an unused blanket lies crumpled beside him, but he is seeking Graves’ pity, likely in hopes Graves will unlock the cage door and allow the boy to escape. 

But the boy will not escape, Graves knows. He will only maul and beg like an animal, tear at Graves’ clothes in an effort to get to his skin. Side effects of the potion: feral greed coupled with an extreme aphrodisiac. Initially, Graves had intended to extract the obscurial from the boy’s body. Now it seems he has only been able to suppress the transformation--an obscurial mind in a human form. If the boy were any bigger, Graves would have difficulty roping him in, but his frail body and infantile strength make him easy to control despite being unable to control himself. 

Weeks ago, Graves began reading No-Maj books on neurology in an effort to create the potion. It allowed him necessary insight in the function of the hippocampus and its effects when altered. The biology of wizards is slightly different from the lay No-Maj, which may have accounted for the drastic side effects he has been witnessing for two days now: increased speed, heightened senses, diminished higher mental functioning. He had held up a simple multiplication problem, and the boy looked on it blankly. Graves could not tell if he could no longer multiply, or if he never learned. 

Graves squats down by the cage--meant for dogs, but useful for experiments--and lets out a whistle.

“Credence,” Graves says sweetly with a false smile. He has a cracker in his fingers that he slides into the cage.

Credence turns and, faster than Graves’ eyes can detect, gets to his feet, fingers threading the bars. His eyes are no longer the white orbs they were this morning, rather they’ve returned to brown softness, though still wild. Partial sentience, then. He looks almost human like this. Graves wonders if the potion is finally wearing off.

Credence opens his mouth. 

“Ah ah,” Graves says. “No biting.”

Gingerly, the boy takes the cracker and eats it. He returns to Graves’ fingers and laps the salt from them, little kitten licks that tickle slightly. Graves gives him another, and another. After each one, Credence’s eyes flutter shut and he dives for Graves’ fingers, as if he is more eager to consume them than the food. At first it appears innocent, but his naked form begins to flush and his cock starts to harden. The tiny licks turn into sucking Graves’ fingers completely into his mouth for increasing stretches of time. Graves allows it while he makes notes on a parchment and quill poised in the air. 

The boy’s mouth is exceedingly warm, evidence of fever. An excess of saliva from his mouth and seminal fluid from his cock. Nipples peaked. Sweat glistening his body. 

“What happens if I let you continue?” Graves asks him, mostly rhetorically.

“P-please,” Credence replies. He had barely spoken before all this, so Graves cannot tell if his refusal of multisyllabic speech is a side effect of the potion or whatever remnants of personality is left in him.

Graves slides two fingers into the cage. Credence sucks them into his mouth until his face is pressed against the bars, moaning around them as he sucks them obscenely, as far down as he can take them. Graves watches his Adam’s apple bob up and down with the repeated swallowing, drool dripping from his mouth down his chin, neck, chest. His hands are still clutching the cage bars, which is surprising: Graves assumed he would have begun touching himself, but a quick glance to his swollen cock reveals another potential side effect: the pulsing of it--each one pulling out another fat droplet of come only to dribble down his balls and well in a puddle underneath him--leads Graves to believe he does not need touch to receive pleasure. Perhaps, Graves considers, his only pleasure is in consuming. 

“Do you feel...empty, Credence?” Graves asks. 

Around his fingers, Credence nods emphatically. 

“Would you like more food?” he ventures.

He shakes his head this time. His cock throbs between his legs, purple-red and shiny with wet. Graves had shaved his body clean before the experiment began, so he can see every glistening inch of his sweat-soaked body.

“Would you like to suck on some kind of toy?”

Another head shake.

“It’s only flesh you desire.”

A nod this time. Graves watches as the boy’s body begins to tense. He can feel his own fingers begin to prune. Credence starts to moan, shifting his hips against air, cock growing alarmingly rigid. His breath speeds up and he sucks harder, until Grave's can feel the inside of his throat.

Graves cannot look away--the boy’s cock gives one more throb and then spurts heavy streams of come all over the cage floor; his stomach muscles flutter and his mouth finally opens, drool dripping from Graves’ fingers as he cries out in a seemingly endless orgasm.

Graves himself has become aroused by the purity of the boy’s need. Credence presses his forehead against the bars, face flushed, panting. He’s soaked in his own fluids, has ruined his cage. He barely takes a second before he has his come scooped up from the floor onto his fingers and bends over.

Forehead on one arm, he slicks his ass as presses one finger in, moaning as he does so. He barely has the first in before shoving the second beside it. The quill scrawls rapidly on the parchment, and Graves can do nothing but stare in fascination at the sight before him, the boy defiling himself in front of Graves, _for_ Graves.

Graves whistles between his teeth to get the boy's attention. Credence stills, seeming to come temporarily back to his own mind. Then Graves slides his fingers back into the cage.

“Come on,” he says encouragingly. “You’re allowed.”

Credence backs up so his ass is aligned with the cage, and Graves inserts his fingers. He doesn’t need to move; the boy fucks himself back onto them on his own, reaching behind him with more of his come and shoving his own in beside it, until there are four fingers in him and he’s already hard again. His ass is so wet it's as if he is secreting his own lubricant, which the quill excitedly takes down.

“Need,” he gasps out. The cage rattles with the force of his movements. “More.  _ Please. _ ”

Graves feels his own erection tenting his slacks. And, he figures, it could add to the results of the experiment. Perhaps this is the key to extracting the obscurial. He lets his fingers slip out and Credence gasps.

Graves shushes him and says, “Turn around.” He gets to his knees and unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his slacks, and pulls his cock out. The squares that the cage bars make are just large enough that his cock slides inside, and the boy immediately sucks it into his mouth. He continues gathering up his precome in his hand and fucking himself on his fingers. The movement of his mouth on Graves’ cock creates a rhythm on which he rides his own hand. He is whimpering and swallowing around him, tears welling up in his eyelashes and slowly sliding down his cheeks. It seems there is something of a conflict in him--a moment ago he wanted nothing but this, and now the strain on his face tells Graves that the lack of control is perhaps grating on whatever piece of him is still there. The potion’s effects are wearing thin.

Graves pulls out of the boy’s mouth. Instead of insisting on more this time, Credence continues fucking his hand but now he’s begun weeping, and his other hand dashes to his mouth seemingly of its own accord and he shoves his thumb inside. Now Graves has a truly beautiful view: this boy on his knees, one hand behind him bouncing on his fingers, come and drool and sweat coating his porcelain skin, thumb in his mouth and tears streaming down his face. 

“Turn around again,” Graves says. 

Credence does, but not as quickly as before. He writhes against the cage walls and backs up until the bars make little indents in his flesh. He removes his own fingers and his asshole flutters at the nothingness he so desperately seems to need filled, and which Graves is more than happy to provide. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but Graves’ cock reaches the boy’s entrance and he pushes in. 

Credence cries out, and Graves pushes in further, until he is as deep as he can get. The boy stays still this time as Graves fucks into him, rattling the cage. He can feel the boy’s body begin to tremble and tense again, all of him flushed a deep pink. He is barely making noise now, only panting, whimpering around his thumb. Graves can feel himself inching closer to climax, eager to spill inside the boy, to see if that will change the results of the experiment somehow.

Credence stills, moans around his thumb as he comes again, untouched again, asshole clenching around Graves’ cock as his body convulses with the pleasure of it. From his view, Graves can only see the resulting pool of come, much larger than anyone should be able to spill from a single orgasm, flowing from him not in spurts this time, but in a steady stream like urine. He continues crying, nearly every orifice leaking in some way. 

The sight alone brings Graves to climax, and he pushes as far in as he can with the restrictions of the cage, and comes silently, cock pushing against the tight walls of the boy’s asshole, which feels as if it is sucking him in as his mouth had. The transference of fluids must have altered Graves somehow--he continues coming well past when his orgasm should have subsided. He can feel his come continue filling Credence, whereas Credence’s has finally stopped. It is a pleasure unlike anything Graves has ever felt before; he bites his cheek to keep from groaning, and catches sight of his quill taking notes on the phenomenon happening between them.

Credence clutches his distending belly and makes a deep noise in his throat, in hopefully final satisfaction as the last of the potion’s effects begin to ebb away. Finally the stream of fluid stops and Graves pulls out hastily for fear of encountering more of the potion's effects. Credence falls to his side, still clutching his stomach. Come begins pouring out of him, mixing with his own on the cage floor. He lets out a cracked little sob and curls in on himself, hand twitching against his lips with each long pull long pull of his thumb. 

Graves tucks his waning dick back into his slacks and stands from the floor. “First experiment down,” he tells Credence. “But we’re closer. On to the next batch.”


End file.
